


god save the queen(s)

by dragonbagel



Series: peter and mj, sittin in a tree [3]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Painkillers, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Trans Peter Parker, also mj makes a Big Oof, and mj and may have to deal with him, basically peters loopy after top surgery, top surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-10
Updated: 2019-10-10
Packaged: 2020-11-28 21:21:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20973236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonbagel/pseuds/dragonbagel
Summary: MJ makes a mental note to also take some videos of loopy Peter—which, in her bonafide opinion, was even funnier than conked-out-on-super-drugs Peter—for Ned’s enjoyment. And for her own. God, she’s never going to let Peter live this down.or: peter’s way too high on painkillers after his top surgery, and mj and may aren’t getting paid enough to deal with him. or getting paid at all, really.





	god save the queen(s)

**Author's Note:**

> all i can think of is that screenshot from “we’re the millers” where kenny’s like wait, you guys are getting paid?
> 
> also wow what are titles (mj and may are the queens if you couldnt tell)

“For the hundredth time, Peter: no, you can’t go on patrol!”

“But I’m Spider-Man!”

MJ has to cover her mouth to hide a laugh as Aunt May groans in frustration. 

“Yes, we’re all aware of who you are.”

“I’m—ha, I’m sticky. See?”

He reaches out to press his hand to the top of his nightstand, lifting it easily. He begins to shake it with a grin, paying no attention to the way its contents—including a lamp, much to MJ’s panic—slip precariously close to the edge. She slaps his hand, and he quickly unsticks himself with a groan. God, he’s so weird. 

“Why’re you so mean?” he grumbles.

“Because you’re making a goddamn mess!” 

To prove her point, MJ picks up the bottle of painkillers that had thankfully been the only casualty of Peter’s annoyingly bizarre stickiness show-and-tell. She rattles the pills in his face, causing him to frown. 

“What’re those?” He fails to take advantage of the prime opportunity for a Vine reference, reminding MJ once again of how ridiculously high her boyfriend is right now.

“According to Tony, enough Oxycodone to kill an elephant,” May responds, rolling her eyes from her seat at Peter’s bedside. “Which you are under no circumstances allowed to get addicted to, _ capiche _?”

“Mr. Stark?” Peter asks, eyes wide as he completely ignores what MJ knows is May’s totally serious threat. “Wait, is he here? Shit, I hope I’m not wearing my Iron Man boxers.”

He moves to check under his blanket, and this time MJ isn’t fast enough to hide her chuckle, earning her a look of pure betrayal from Peter.

“MJ!” Peter whines, trying to turn and bury his face in his pillow.

“Hey, quit that!” May presses softly on Peter’s shoulder to keep him from rolling over, effectively pinning the same teenager who could lift buses to his bed. “Only laying on your back for the next few days, remember?”

Peter frowns, his gaze migrating from his aunt to MJ, who was back in her seat next to May. The lack of comprehension is staggering. 

“God help me,” May mutters.

MJ watches as Peter manages to lift his blanket enough to see if he’s indeed wearing the Iron Man boxers, which are an endless source of amusement for her. Of course, MJ had pressured him into wearing his second-most embarrassing pair of underwear: the Hulk-themed ones that Peter constantly grumbles about but MJ knows he secretly loves.

Much to the growing warmth inside her (which, _ ew, _feelings), Peter seemed content enough with his fashion choices. That is, of course, until he glances at his chest with a frown. 

MJ follows his gaze to the oversized “I Love New York” t-shirt that Tony had convinced the doctors to dress Peter in post-surgery. He claimed it was an inside joke, but something told her Peter wasn’t going to find it very funny. Because, y’know, she’s observant like that. And also because she knew that, if nothing else, Tony was still an asshole at heart. 

Plus, May had frowned at it when Peter had been wheeled out of the operating room with it on, and MJ trusted May with her life. But Peter had also been unconscious at the time, and the doctors said not to move him too much, and who was MJ to argue with medical professionals who also happened to know how to deal with weird, genetically enhanced spider-teens? Also, Peter was kind of drooling in his sleep, and MJ was having way too much fun putting ridiculous Snapchat filters on his face to send to Ned. Peter would probably hate her for it later, but it had truly been comedy gold. And Ned’s disgruntled snaps, complete with equally exaggerated filters, were also pretty entertaining. Poor sucker was at school, thanks to his mom’s insistence and his inability to lie like MJ suggested. Oh well, it was his loss. 

She makes a mental note to also take some videos of loopy Peter—which, in her bonafide opinion, was even funnier than conked-out-on-super-drugs Peter—for Ned’s enjoyment. And for her own. God, she’s never going to let Peter live this down. 

Now, though, she can’t help but grin as Peter continues to stare at his chest. He looks up, eyes sliding from May to MJ and back again. 

“‘M I in my binder? Thought you said I wasn’t supposed to sleep in it. Or patrol. Right? Does this mean I can break that rule now?” Peter pauses before apparently realizing what he said. “Er, wait, not break the rule, no ma’am, never me.”

May snorts at Peter’s stammering, which he seems to genuinely find convincing.

“No, doofus, you’re not,” MJ replies. 

Peter furrows his brow, trying to tug at the hem of the shirt. “I don’t get it.”

MJ rolls her eyes before leaning over and pulling the shirt up to his chin for him. He blushes, speaking in the equivalent of a poorly concealed stage whisper. “MJ, stop, what if May sees? Oh, God, what if she tries to give me The Talk again?”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” May says, appearing more amused than anything.

“Hear what?” Peter says with a terrible attempt at feigning innocence.

MJ smacks her hand to her forehead. “Would you just look down, idiot?”

Peter complies, tilting his head down towards the gauze covering his chest. “Huh.”

He gingerly pokes at it, hissing softly. “Ouch.”

“Dumbass. Quit touching it.”

“But you said—“

“I said look, not poke,” MJ retorts.

Peter groans, every fiber of his being screaming “petulant child.” His eyes return to his chest, arm thankfully at his side, and he squints with confusion. 

“Where are they?”

“They’re gone, honey,” May says gently.

“Gone where?” 

“Away,” she replies, taking his hand in hers.

Peter chews his lip. “Are they coming back?”

May’s smile is bittersweet. “No. Never.”

Peter raises the hand not currently in his aunt’s grasp and sticks out his pinky. “Promise?”

“Promise,” May says as she links her finger with his.

He turns to MJ when May lets go of his hand. “You too?”

MJ grins, extending her pinky. “Of course.”

Peter sighs as he lets his hand fall back onto his blankets, seemingly content. “Good.”

May presses a kiss to his forehead. “You should get some sleep, kiddo.”

“But I’m not tired,” Peter whines. 

May stands, cracking her back and yawning. “Yeah, well, I am. And super-kids need their rest.”

“I’m not—uh—I don’t know...what you’re talking about?” Peter’s face is turning red, and he’s pointedly not meeting May’s gaze. 

May just chuckles.

“Oh, definitely not. I’m gonna go take a nap because, if you’ll recall, you made me drive you to your surgery at the ass-crack of dawn so that your weird metabolism didn’t kill you and you also, y’know…” She makes an exaggerated puking gesture. “But I’ll be just down the hall, so holler if you need anything.”

She turns to MJ. “I’m assuming you’re staying?”

MJ nods. “If that’s, uh, okay.”

“Sure. Just no funny business until he’s healed.” She pauses in the doorway, shaking her head. “God, I hate how often I have to say that.”

Peter is no longer the only one blushing, though he seems to have forgotten the source of his embarrassment in favor of playing with a loose string on this blanket with rapt attention.

With one last look at her nephew, May leaves the room. Now, it’s just the two of them. MJ scoots closer to the bed, then gives up on the chair to climb in next to Peter.

“Scoot over, loser.”

Peter whines as he’s jostled. Christ, he’s annoying. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to move.”

“Yeah, well, I thought I wasn’t supposed to be babysitting my boyfriend, but here we are.”

Peter’s lips morph into a pout, but he manages to wiggle closer to the wall to give MJ space. She sighs as she lays down next to him, propping herself up on her elbow and leaning forward to give him a quick kiss.

“Ew, cooties,” he says once she pulls away.

She snorts as she shifts to get her head fully onto the pillow, gently wrapping an arm around Peter and pulling him close. She makes sure to keep him on his back as she does so, because as much as Peter might deny it, she can still catch the small grimaces of pain flitting over his face every few breaths.

“I’m going to tell Ned you said that,” she replies, moving to run her fingers through Peter’s hair once he’s settled against her chest. 

“Uh huh,” he says, eyes slowly blinking closed. 

“I’m serious.”

“Mmm.” With that, his breaths even out until he begins to snore.

MJ keeps her fingers in his hair as she reaches to pull her phone out of her pocket, opening Snapchat once again. This time, she doesn’t put a wacky filter on Peter’s face. Instead, she just takes a picture of him, because god dammit he’s really fucking cute like this. It’s mushy and sentimental and everything MJ hates but secretly, though she’d take it to her grave, actually loves. 

She puts a heart sticker in the corner for good measure; if she’s entering disgusting couple territory she might as well go all out. Her gaze slides back to Peter clicks the button to save it to her memories, though she will absolutely show it to nobody under any circumstances ever and shit, she’s so fucking smitten with him that it’s physically painful.

She sighs, laying her phone down next to her and closes her eyes. She’s nearly asleep when her phone buzzes beside her. Then buzzes again. And again. And again. 

She goes to turn it off, but notices the ridiculous amount of Snapchat notifications in the process. Since when did she have the misfortune of being so popular? 

Not wanting to deal with the stupid red number next to the app icon the next time she unlocked her phone—you’re welcome, future MJ—she navigates to the app. She _ loathes _those alerts, and the fact that Peter constantly has approximately 500 of them at any given time irks her to no end. 

She opens Snapchat to find a snap from Ned, which isn’t totally out of the ordinary. It’s just him surrounded by a bunch of heart emojis which, _ weird _ , but not too out of the ballpark from Ned’s usual antics. What’s weirder is the snap from Cindy, which simply says “cute.” And the message from Abe that reads “fav.” Not to mention the one from fucking _ Flash _, whose friend request she only accepted to joke with Peter and Ned about his nonstop fanboying over Spider-Man on his story. His snap is just a picture of him rolling his eyes with the caption “gross,” which, okay, is pretty on brand. 

MJ returns to her list of messages and photos, which for some reason keep arriving. She frowns at the sheer number of red arrows next to her contacts’ names. Red arrows that are slowly becoming just outlines. 

_ Opened 32s ago. Opened 10s ago. Opened 1s ago. _

She wracks her brain. The only people she bothers to have a streak with are Ned and Peter, though she’s pretty sure the last thing she sent them was a video. So why the hell are there so many of those goddamn red arrows?

It almost feels like they’re mocking her. She definitely should’ve put her phone on silent to begin with and dealt with this headache later. Actually, screw it; she’s just going to do it now and take a much-needed nap with her boyfriend. Her stupidly adorable, dorky boyfriend. 

_ Oh, shit. _

MJ bolts upright, causing Peter to groan in his sleep.

“No, no, no,” she mutters. “No way, no fucking way.”

She holds her breath as she swipes up to view her memories, praying to the gods that she definitely didn’t believe in (but could really use some miracle from right about now) that Peter’s picture would be there. _ Please, please be there. _

And because the aforementioned gods hate her, it isn’t.

“Fuck! Fuck! _ Fuck!” _

She glances back at Peter, who’s thankfully still passed out. Then, she opens a new text to a number that she frankly hates having but is now immensely grateful for.

**To: Tony Stark**

_Hey, you wouldn’t happen to be able to hack into Snapchat’s servers, would you?_

She watches as a reply bubble pops up, then disappears again. Isn’t he supposed to be a genius or something? Surely it’d be a piece of cake to get into _ Snapchat _, of all things. 

She sets her phone down, tapping her fingers against her thigh. When it finally buzzes, it’s not with the reassuring message she’d been hoping for. Instead, it’s another goddamn Snapchat notification, which she begrudgingly opens.

_ @ironmanofficial screenshotted your snap! _

Yep, Peter’s going to fucking kill her.

**Author's Note:**

> pls leave comments/kudos ill love you forever


End file.
